


Fire Met Light

by PseudonymVirtue



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Post-Season/Series 02, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 14:36:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18345668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PseudonymVirtue/pseuds/PseudonymVirtue
Summary: Sypha recalls a pivotal moment of self discovery from years ago as she's confronted with another in the present.





	Fire Met Light

Against her better judgement, she accepted the flask that Trevor offered her over his bare shoulder. She held gentle pressure on his sinewy tissue with the same hand that held a needle and thread between her forefinger and thumb.

Both her hands had been caked with the sticky spill of his blood, but he didn't seem to mind it when she took a swig from his flask and passed it back to him.

“Careful Belmont,” Sypha spoke in a hushed tone, barely audible over the crackle of flames in their camp fire, “I don't think you want me to handle this drunk now.”

He turned his head toward her, gently, so as to not contract and pull the muscles in his back that she was stitching over. She did not have to tell him he'd been careless because the uncharacteristically careful manner in which he moved told her that he knew; he was being careful now, he was moving slow, and he was being obedient when she instructed him to lean this way and turn that.

“You're drunk, just like that?” He accused, the inflection in his voice letting her know that he had an eyebrow raised at her.

Only one more stitch should do it.

“I don't know,” She leaned towards his ear, delighting in the goosebumps that rose in his flesh under her breath on his back, “I am a lady after all. Perhaps we'll know when my needle drives too deep and I make you a new scar.”

She dragged an index finger down a particularly prominent one, flicking it where it terminated by his spine for emphasis.

He snorted in response, taking a swig himself. “I'll drink to that.”

She finished the sutures, clipping the longer threads down with a small pair of scissors. She made several dabs with a fresh cloth at the fresh trickles of blood that spilled from the wound during her process before washing her own hands with it.

“Don't move.” She instructed as she rose to fetch bandages from the wagon and she observed him at the corner of her eye, his posture slouched as he leaned on his good leg to poke at the fire with a stick.

It'd been a week since they left Alucard. She worried for him, though she quickly consoled that matter with the fact that _Alucard_ , unlike her brute poking the fire, was far more capable than she or Trevor of taking care of himself.

* * *

 

 _“Sypha,”_ Her grandfather had scolded her with kind eyes as she stood with her hands behind her back once when she was ten years old, _“What have you got there?”_

 _“Nothing.”_ She insisted, but the older man wasn't convinced.

 _“If you show me, I won't be angry with you.”_ He'd knelt to her level, palms upon his cloaked thighs for balance.

 

* * *

 

She could always read what kind of mood her grandfather was in by his posture.

 

“Here,” Sypha passed the scrap cloth to Trevor, lifting her skirts to avoid the lick of the flames as she passed them by. “Hold these while I wrap it, alright?”

She knelt behind him again, pushing the bowl of soap water and instruments out of the way.

“Is this necessary?”

“Yes.” Her pitch rose irritably. “Are you telling me that all this time you've been on your own you've never bothered to cover your wounds?”

“Not until after that bit with Dracula, no.”

“I covered those too.”

“That's right.”

She exhaled sharply, passing the roll of cloth to him under his arm, leaning close as he accepted it from her and pulled it across the front of his chest.

“Trevor Belmont,” She shook her head, unable to resist herself a smile, “It's a marvel that you are alive.”

He chuckled, acknowledging her claim in total agreement. They passed the cloth to each other several times that way, and with every layer she tugged and secured the bandage over his back.

“I'll bet you've never seen a worse wreck than me.” Trevor mused, bringing the flask to his lips again.

“Wrong.” Sypha rebutted sharply.

She reached the end of the roll and skillfully tied the ends, giving the bandage a hard pull in several places to ensure it wouldn't come loose.

If anything, Trevor Belmont was the most restless sleeper she'd ever met, and she'd been accustomed to sleeping alongside numerous people.

“Did you kill the poor bloke?” Trevor turned to her again, watching her intently with sharp blue eyes as she rolled back on her heels and rose, dumping the remains of the water on the ground behind him and wrung out the damp cloth, letting the water fall in tiny currents.

“No,” She told him simply, “He was my cousin. He was mauled by a hog and left for dead. My grandfather tried to save him. We'd even cut off his leg in the process.”

Watching Trevor crane his neck the way he was was unsettling, so Sypha placed the cloth back in the bowl with the scissors and moved to sit beside him instead.

“You didn't try bloodletting, did you?” He replied dryly.

Sypha shook her head. “No blood to let. We had to let him pass.”

Trevor poked the fire with his stick again.

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.” Sypha shrugged, “Just no more battling the next week or so, or I may have to cut off your leg.”

He laughed, eyes meeting hers in silent agreement.

Since she could remember, the road was full of company with her fellow Speakers. She'd grown with their stories of legends and cautionary tales, and the insightful measures that she'd applied to becoming a good woman, a decent minister of first aid, and most important of all, a tactical magician.

She'd always imagined the road would be lonely and quiet with less than that group of people, but with Trevor, it was anything but.

Her attraction to him was undeniable, as grotesque as his habits could be. But he submitted himself to her criticism, which he probably found equally grotesque and took her complaints in stride, nonchalantly pissing at a further distance from her, and taking the time to bathe when they were able.

He attempted to lay backward in front of the fire, to lean on his elbows and stretch out his legs but winced and recoiled half way, and exposed muscles on his abdomen contracting from the pain.

Sypha reached out a hand and crawled to him instinctively, because she knew he'd be hurt the instant she saw him try, and a small amount of pity coursed through her, because she knew that he wasn't accustomed to having someone fuss over him that way.

And she wasn't simply attracted, she was impossibly enamored.

“Right, right.” He grumbled, brushing her hand from him.

As much as he was brutish, he certainly had the air of nobility about him at times.

She allowed him to remove her hand from him. The heat of a summer's night raked fully upon them, but their proximity to the fire seemed to burn off what humidity there was in the air, leaving her with parched lips and little to say.

They sat like that for a moment, both with legs crossed, him facing the fire and her facing him, a mere inches from his shoulder propped by his elbow to his knee. He adjusted his posture several times, attempting to get comfortable without pulling her careful sutures from their seams on his flesh.

A small smile ghosted upon her lips. He was fidgeting, and a confident man wouldn't fidget unless he was restless, or nervous-

And perhaps he wasn't so confident in that moment?

* * *

 

_“If you show me, I won't be angry with you.”_

The small girl inhaled deeply, letting the air out through her mouth ever so slowly. She was confused and conflicted, and thoughts of despair berated her for what she'd done- conjuring a single flame in the palm of her hand that she now held behind her robes from her grandfather.

 _“Do you promise?”_ Her small voice inquired gravely, uncertain of what good that would do in the span of things.

He nodded. _“Of course, Sypha.”_

* * *

 

“All my life,” Sypha spoke the words at last, bursting with the need to explain to him her thoughts, “I thought I'd be lonely traveling with so little company. But I don't feel lonely at all.”

Trevor looked at her skeptically, now containing his head in the palm of his hand. He wasn't old, but the dancing shadows cast from the fire made him look that way by the nicks and scars upon his face. And from what she'd seen of his body, he was a series of untold stories that were being withheld from her for the time being.

For a man so scorned and betrayed, she could understand that.

“Are you saying that I'm as pleasurable of company by myself as that of an entire caravan of Speakers?” He teased, his amusement evident.

Sypha cocked her head to the side, her hands forming fists in her lap. “Perhaps just as much pleasure, but equal amounts of a pain.”

She studied his expression as he looked her over, running his tongue over his teeth under a closed mouth as if in contemplation of what he was thinking to say next-

Or what he would do.

She was comfortable being with him with her bare shoulders, even in the light of day. They hadn't been entirely unphysical with one another during their short duration on the road, as she'd rested her head on his shoulder during their long days together and even slept nestled between his arm and chest at night, disguising the giddiness she felt from hearing his heart beat rhythmically from his chest so close to her ear. And she'd seen him near to naked, more than she'd seen of any man.

But he leaned to her in a near crouch now, slowly reaching a hand to twirl the ends of her hair at her chin while looking at it in a hint of admiration. Warm strands glowed red by the fire curled softly over his calloused finger.

Her lips parted and she stiffened as he leaned further onto his knees and gracefully threaded a hand over her chin and then her jaw until she felt a fingertip rest at her earlobe. His hand held her head this way, as the other dragged her roughly by a finger wrapped in her hair until his forehead touched hers and his lips stopped just short of where her breath hitched, mouth still open as she breathed the air that escaped him.

He looked at her for a moment, as if in a dare to finish what he'd started. If that was what he'd meant by his quickened breath, then she obliged correctly by bringing her lips to his in complete closure, letting his hands slide to her neck and with the stubble on his chin abrasive and unpleasant amidst delightful pressure, he then tugged at her again so impatiently so that she practically had to climb onto his lap to meet his demand.

Her heart fluttering, she broke the kiss and pushed him firmly with both hands upon his bare chest directly backwards onto his wound that she'd just taken care to suture and bandage. He didn't wince in pain as she fleetingly anticipated, but looked up at her with the reflection of the fire in his eyes, making them appear a flickering shade of violet.

Against her better judgement, she lowered her lips down to meet his again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This was my first time writing for this fandom. I barely remember the games but the Netflix series made me fall in love! This might turn into a multichapter oneshot series if other ideas come to mind!


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